


And That Just Leaves Contempt

by Synekdokee



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Trevor's pretty messed up in this one, heed the warnings yeah, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor didn’t like to live in denial. His life’s philosophy was – do the things you want, and take the things you want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And That Just Leaves Contempt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts on how Trevor and Michael's friendship can continue after the game. This is one outcome. 
> 
> If it makes you feel better, in my head Michael's waiting for Trevor with a shot-gun.

People had often called him a monster, or a fuck-up.

 

They usually didn’t do it twice.

 

Trevor didn’t like to live in denial. His life’s philosophy was – do the things you want, and take the things you want.

 

Michael had always been a fucking complication.

 

 

“T, hey T,” Michael  slurred, his body heavy as Trevor half-dragged him into the trailer. They’d gotten drunk. Heavily. Trevor had quit early, but Michael, battling his repressed demons like the cliché that he was kept going long after he stopped being able to walk in a straight line.

 

They slumped on Trevor’s sagging sofa, Michael a limp weight across Trevor. It didn’t take much to tip him over, half sitting, half lying face down on the cushions.

 

Trevor stared at him, at the broad expanse of his back in that white shirt, at his full (fuller than ten years ago) ass in the black slacks.

 

Trevor had been half hard most of the evening, roused by the booze, the women, the memories of his and Michael’s nights together in the past. And not a little by Michael by his side, Trevor smacked in the gut by the familiarity of Michael’s wit and temper, the breadth of his shoulders and the ridiculous way he swaggered when he was full of himself.

 

Sliding his hands around Michael’s waist, Trevor felt around unabashedly. Michael had gained weight, and Trevor felt a vain jab of satisfaction when he compared the middle-age padding to his own torso.

Michael gave a muffled sound of protest when Trevor’s hands started working his belt and fly open, but Trevor ignored him. He lifted Michael’s hips up and started to shuffle his trousers down, dragging his underwear down in one go.

“What-“ Michael stuttered, pushing himself up on his elbows. “What are you... what?” He sounded confused. Trevor wrapped an arm around him, placing his palm on the swell of Michael’s belly.

“Shh,” he muttered soothingly, voice low. “Shh, just let me, eh? Gonna be good Mikey, just let Uncle Trevor work his magic.”

“Trevor… what the fuck man?” Groggily, Michael tried to drag himself forwards on the sofa. With a growl, Trevor grabbed his hips, delighting in the way his fingertips sank into the fat, and yanked him back, trapping Michael beneath himself with an elbow on between his shoulder blades.

“Stay put, dollface,” he murmured. “This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now.”

It took a little manoeuvring to keep Michael from wriggling drunkenly away while getting at least his other leg free of the slacks, but Trevor had always been good at multitasking. Unfortunately, losing his trousers completely seemed to sober Michael up a little. He jerked up, twisting his body sideways, looking alarmed.

“What the fuck are you doing, get the fuck off of me!”

The fist came at Trevor fast, but uncertain, weakened by the booze. Trevor grabbed Michael by the wrist, twisting his arm behind his back, and punched him  in the temple, hard enough to daze him. Michael slumped into the sofa with an “oomph”, and Trevor used the moment to his advantage to grab Michael’s other arm and twist it back as well, pinning his wrists to the dip of his spine and pressing down on them. With his other hand he started undoing his own jeans, tugging them mid-thigh.

“You always have to make things so fucking difficult, don’t you?” Trevor snarled, tightening his hold on Michael as he began to fidget again.

 

He nudged Michael’s thighs apart and leaned over, grabbing the leaking tube of gun oil from the floor. Part of him wanted to scrape Michael raw, feeling like it would even things out, poetic justice and all that shit, but he wasn’t particularly excited about having his own dick chafed open in the process. He slicked himself up quickly, and with one hand guiding his cock and the other keeping a firm hold on Michael’s struggling arms, he nudged his prick against Michael’s asshole.

With a confused shout, Michael’s body jerked like a released spring, bucking underneath Trevor. Digging his elbow into Michael’s spine, Trevor hissed at him to settle down. “This is the least you can do, you back-stabbing whore-monger,” he snarled, breath hot against the strained curve of Michael’s neck.

“You left me on thin ice when you died, you little shit. This is me getting back my own.”

 

Michael gave a confused moan, trying to close highs thighs and kick Trevor farther, his limbs messy and uncoordinated.

“You gonna deny me this,” Trevor shouted, pushing Michael’s wrists up, straining his shoulders. “You fucking owe me, Michael! You owe me for that grave!”

For a fleeting moment he felt Michael tense up, and Trevor braced himself for a fight. He could take Michael easily, drunk off his ass, but fear, Trevor knew, fear was always a driving force.

Then again, so was guilt.

Michael slumped down, face turned towards the back of the sofa. He didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes as thought in surrender. It made Trevor waiver. He wanted Michael to give in, not give up. He was on the verge of reconsidering his goal, when Michael spoke.

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” he mumbled, voice flat. “I’ve said it before, you’re beyond saving.”

And just like that, the flame was resparked, like throwing oil in a fire.

“The one mistake you keep making,” Trevor snarled, slightly breathless as he positioned himself, “is that you think I _want_ to be saved by you.”

One hand on Michael’s hip, the other still holding his wrists tight, Trevor pushed in, forcing himself inside Michael’s tensed-up body. He ignored the cracked shout from Michael, and how quickly it was cut off.

“Sweet Jesus,” Trevor panted, stopping to feel the way Michael felt around him. “You are tight, aren’t ya,” he said, slipping his hand from Michael’s hip to his stomach, cupping his hand around the fat.

“Up, get up,” he barked, letting go of Michael’s arms, and Michael obeyed, swaying a little as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He gave out a sharp hiss of air when Trevor started thrusting, gripping Michael’s hips tightly to pull him back.

Trevor kept fucking him, listening to the small, painful noises Michael made with every push. He felt a powerful drive in his gut, a rage pushing him on as he leaned over Michael, pressing one hand to the nape of his neck and pushing until Michael’s face was pressed cheek-down into the sofa. _Like a bitch in heat_ , Trevor thought. Then he laughed, and said it out loud.

“You’re like a bitch in heat, Mikey.” He laughed again, leaning low to speak into Michael’s ear. “See how it feels like to get fucked by someone you trusted.”

Michael shivered, and gave a violent buck, suddenly struggling against Trevor. It made something quick and hot burn inside Trevor, and without thinking he punched Michael hard in the jaw and twisted his arm back again, this time bending it with a fast jerk until he heard the tell-tale pop of a dislocated shoulder.

Michael’s scream was muffled into the sofa, but it sent a bolt of lust through Trevor’s spine. He had Michael here, right where he wanted him, doing what Trevor told him to do and finally, finally it was about what Trevor wanted.

Covering Michael’s body with his own in a twisted parody of tenderness, Trevor kept fucking Michael hard, the slap of skin on skin almost drowning out the grunts of pain spilling from Michael’s mouth. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Michael’s shoulder, biting at the skin there and listening to the sounds Michael was making.

Trevor hadn’t felt that powerful in a long time.

 

When he came, it was almost a disappointment. He wanted to draw it out, keep Michael like this, and yet his body was screaming for release. With a loud groan, hips pressed flush against Michael’s ass, Trevor came, emptying himself inside Michael with a jerk of his hips.

He pressed a mockingly tender kiss to the nape of Michael’s neck, caressing his sides as he straightened and pulled out. He caught a glimpse of his semen starting to drip from Michael’s used hole before Michael collapsed down with a sharp cry, favouring his dislocated shoulder.

Trevor smacked him on one buttock and got up, grabbing a stained cloth from the table and wiping himself off before pulling his jeans up.

Michael started fumbling with his trousers, face cast down as he tried to re-clothe himself one-handed.

Rolling his eyes, Trevor grabbed another towel and wetted it quickly at the sink, then threw it at Michael, who hesitated.

“You might want to clean yourself up before you get dressed,” Trevor said despairingly. “Jesus.”

His mood was improving. He wanted to go check out the lab, maybe ask Ron if he knew about any promising business opportunities. He felt fidgety, eager to get Michael on his way.

 

“You fit to drive?” He asked impatiently. Michael looked up at him, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He was still holding the fucking towel, like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“What?” He asked, and Trevor wanted to slap him so hard his teeth came loose.

“Are you kicking me out?” Michael said, voice shaky and incredulous. “After you just-“ He paused and glanced around the room, as though looking for something. “After what just happened,” he finished weakly. He looked like a wilted plant in Trevor’s eyes, but there was a set in his shoulders, despite the injury, and something cold in his eyes, and that... that was new.

 

Trevor gave a frustrated growl. “Ahh fine, stay if you fucking want, I have business to take care of.” He grabbed his coat and got out of the trailer, heading towards Ron’s little shack. He felt energised, and he had big plans for Trevor Philips Enterprises. He felt like he could get anything he wanted now.


End file.
